


What Is And What Should Never Be

by stereophoenix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BTW: the major characters will probably not stay dead, F/F, M/M, Multi, Post-8.15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereophoenix/pseuds/stereophoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will might be feeling a little more comfortable about being trapped in an alternate universe while a crazy angel attempted to take over their Heaven, if Deanna Winchester would stop being so depressed and tell them what happened to her Sam and Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel of Mysteries

**Author's Note:**

> So after a short hiatus to cope with revision, I'm back with one of my favourite AUs: genderswap! However, because I'm demanding, I accidentally came up with a whole canon-divergent storyline, complete with my own angelic OC ( for reference on what she looks like, see the actress Ming-Na Wen). I hope it works out okay. Anyway, enjoy!

**February 23rd 2013 ******

It had been perfectly silent in the bunker for hours until the sound of shredding guitars nearly caused Dean to fall out of his bed.

His hand fumbled over his bedside table, fingers clawing for the cell, as he pushed himself upright with his ringtone still playing gratingly on into the night. He cursed under his breath as he heard Sam shift across the hall and finally, the vibrating plastic was located and he slid the phone open quickly, pressing it against his ear with a frown.

"Hello?" he hissed quietly, not wanting to wake his brother totally.

"Dean?" a familiar baritone voice sounded from the other side, and Dean frowned in surprise, his movements freezing.

"Cas?"

"Good. I hoped I'd remembered the right number," Castiel replied, sounding as though he and Dean had seen each other yesterday and not nearly three months ago, left in an old folks' home with a dumb telekinetic on his hands.

"Cas, why the hell are you calling me at black-thirty in the morning?" Dean whispered, hushed. His mind began jumping to the worst conclusions. "Are you okay?"

"Currently," Cas said by way of positive confirmation."So, what? You won't be okay soon?" Dean asked, confused.

"I appear to have...run into some trouble," Cas explained. "Where are you?"

"Dude, I'm obviously...what trouble?" Dean picked up on the hesitation swiftly.

"I'm outside a block of warehouses outside of Route...281," Cas avoided, trailing off as though he was reading something. "I believe I'm in Kansas. Are you close?"

"Route 2- yeah, that's like, a five-minute drive from here," Dean sat up properly and listened to Cas closely, trying to hear into the background noise if there was an immediate danger. "What brought you to Lebanon? Just where have you been?"

"Could you bring the holy oil?" Cas continued, seeming to totally ignore Dean's own questions, and Dean tightened his lips angrily. "Cas, you can't just clear off for two months then expect me to run around for you at goddamn two at night just to give you some angel kryptonite-"

"Dammit Dean, I'm in need of assistance here," Cas growled in reply, and this time Dean heard a metallic keening behind the voice, like Cas was drawing his sword. _Not good._

"Cas, what's happen-" Dean's speech was cut short by a long beep from the other line. Angrily, he dropped the phone on the bed and rubbed his chin, contemplating for a full minute before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and switching on the light. _Screw beauty sleep._

Hustling Sam out of bed and sleepwear and into the passenger seat of the Impala would probably have been easier if he'd have stayed out cold, despite his Rockefeller build, simply because Sam awake meant Sam worried.

"Did he say where he was?"

"Warehouse just outside of town," Dean replied, clipped. His hastily laced boots were giving him grief as he stepped on the gas, and Sam's questions weren't helping.

"Why?" Sam was holding his ridiculous bangs out of his eyes with one hand, since his head was still in sleep mode and tried to loll against his chest. His shirt was buttoned wrongly and his jacket was inside out, but he still found the dignity to frown at Dean.

"Hell if I know," was his brother's reply. "He just wanted the holy oil, and some help. Man, he didn't even mention where he'd been all this time."

Sam thought about it. "Well, at least he dropped us a call while in the area," he half-joked, but it was punctuated with a sigh at the end as Dean pulled up outside the warehouses, the car's wheels make a sweet scrape against the rough asphalt. Each one was abandoned, but it was plain to see which one Cas was probably at: a dull fiery glow could be seen from the high windows of the furthest one, and Dean narrowed his eyes at his as he and Sam got out. They locked and loaded quickly, Sam packing the Lupara while Dean held his 1911 in one hand, holy oil in the other.

Approaching the warehouse, apprehension and annoyance, mixed with the sickening flavour of fear, twisted in Dean's gut, and he raised the handgun slightly, more in self-assurance than -defence. Hearing Cas's voice after so many weeks had been a relief, especially with the tension between himself and Sam at the moment over the trials needing a third party to soak it up, but he wasn't sure of he liked the idea of the angel "running into trouble" like this when he wasn't here. It had been hard not to worry about protecting him, like he had in Purgatory just over half a year ago - pushing all memories of that place into a corner, Dean only thought about the fact that Cas was making things harder. Dammit, if only he wouldn't be so damn saintly all the time.

Sam elbowed Dean out of his thoughts, and Dean focused on the warehouse. Cas wasn't outside of it, or anywhere close, so the Winchesters could only assume he was inside, and they pressed themselves against the wall either side of the large double doors. There was the sound of voices from the inside, at least two people, but no words could be made out.

Sam made a gesture towards the door, and Dean nodded. Cocking the gun, he and his brother kicked the doors open and advanced gingerly.

Inside, two figures locked in confrontation whipped their heads around to simultaneously glare at them, and Dean instantly felt the analysing superiority only felt when being watched by angels. One was Cas, looking a little dishevelled, probably from the fighting, but otherwise healthy; the other however, he didn't recognise. Considering the circumstances, he was going to take her as token evil, which explained the holy oil.

"Calling in the foot soldiers, Castiel?" the new angel sneered, and she spun her angel blade over in her hand as she sized up the Winchesters. They saw her too: the vessel was Asian American, seemingly young with hard lines around the eyes and mouth that hinted at age. She was wearing a grey peacoat, black turtleneck and a heavy pair of boots that looked like they could punch through a chest. Probably several chests.

"Dean, Sam," Cas said in greeting, relaxing slightly but not turning from the other angel. "Just in time."

"Hey Cas," Sam nodded, smiling, at the same time Dean said, "Just what the hell is going on here? Who's she?"

"What a way to talk to your elders," the angel frowned, narrowing her eyes at Dean. "Well, Castiel? Aren't you going to introduce your own sister?"

Cas gave her a look, then sucked on his lower lip before glancing at Sam and Dean. "Winchesters, Raziel. Raziel, Winchesters."

"The Winchesters?" Raziel seemed almost impressed, if Dean hadn't noticed her stance shift into defensive as she heard the name. His grip tightened on his gun as Sam rolled his eyes, "Of course you've heard of us."

"I was warned about you, boy," Raziel sounded offended. "I didn't think you were still wasting your time with humans, Castiel."

"He hasn't, actually," Dean directed this jab at Cas, before switching back to Raziel, who was watching this with amusement. "We got a call for some holy oil, and we came. But-"

"Oh, the scary human brought some fancy fire?" Raziel almost laughed, before sighing and dropping the hand with her sword by her side. "I'm sick of this conversation," she announced, and with a flick of her wrist, the Winchesters went crashing into the wall.

Anticipating the attack, Castiel had already flown towards her and was striking his blade downwards as the brothers slumped, but Raziel was faster as her sword blocked his with a clash. Over the edge of the celestial steel, the angels' gaze locked.

"Raziel, stop this," Castiel hissed. "What you are planning could be dangerous for the very fabric of this reality."

"Do you even understand the words you're saying, brother?" Raziel shot back, and for a moment he saw the fear in her eyes. "Do you really know why you're here trying to end me?"

In response, Cas drew his sword back and tried to land a punch, but Raziel ducked underneath it and collided a foot with his stomach. Castiel staggered backwards a few steps, then darted in again and Raziel moved quickly to defend herself. As Sam and Dean pulled themselves up and recovered their weapons, the fighting continued, both angels equally matched and moving almost too fast for the eye to catch.

Dean searched desperately for an opening, some way to help his friend against another one of his crazy family, but the two were moving too fast and too close to even try. As he looked, Sam nudged him and indicated towards a corner of the warehouse. Dean glanced over and for the first time, actually took in what was in the room with them: a metal pestle and mortar sat on a wooden table, surrounded by pots and jars and various curse boxes, as well as a few candles. It looked like the ingredients for a spell, but none Dean could recognise. Before he could study it closer, however, Raziel spoke, and he looked back to see her and Cas exchanging swift jabs, only to be blocked by the other.

"Don't - make - me - kill - you - Castiel!" Raziel finished with a strike directly to Cas's shoulder, and Dean winced as he swerved just in time. "You know I don't want to do that," she added, softer.

Cas narrowed his eyes and grabbed her outstretched arm, twisting it behind her back and making her cry out. "Even if you stop me, others will come. You cannot do what you are doing and expect not to be caught. I found you because of the chaos you were creating, after all."

Dean frowned at this, and exchanged a look with Sam; the cold tone Castiel was using did not sound like him at all, and they were about to step forward when-

"You found me because she told you!" Raziel spat, and then suddenly broke away from him with a horrible crack. Castiel, shocked, didn't have time to react as Raziel spun around and held up a hand, her eyes blazing with white light. Dean gave a shout and started forward, but Sam grabbed his arm and held him back - Dean turned to fight him off, but Sam was staring awestruck, and Dean could only watch as Castiel seemed to fill with the light, mouth opening as it shone out. Raziel twisted her fingers and Cas writhed painfully, then she finally clenched her hand into a fist and with a horrible ripping sound, Castiel was just...gone.

Sam's fingers let go of Dean's jacket, and he ran forward immediately to grab the lapels of Raziel's coat, glaring into her tired eyes. "What did you do to him?"

Raziel sagged in his hands, looking as though she was about to pass out, and she glanced between Dean and Sam, who had instantly moved behind his brother with the shotgun pointed at her and a look of venom in his eyes. The arm Castiel had twisted was hanging uselessly by her side, and Dean realised, sickened, she'd broken her vessel's bone to escape. "He's...safe...now," she panted quietly. "I...sent...him...out of...harm's way."

"Oh yeah, like hell you'd do that," Dean snarled, and he was about to throw her down when she pulled away from him. He assumed defensive but she didn't seem about to attack; merely angry.

"Yes, I would," Raziel snapped. "Castiel is an innocent party, not to mention my own brother. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked, and Dean looked back at his brother to see him frowning at her.

"Have you not noticed his behaviour? How he's played AWOL for these past months?" Raziel replied like it was obvious, still breathing hard from the pain in her arm. She looked up at them, and the worry was obvious in her eyes. "He's not in control of his own actions. None of my family are - except me, that is."

Raziel began walking towards her table, and Dean and Sam turned to follow her. "So if someone was controlling them - and this isn't saying I'm believing you," Dean added quickly, "who would it be?"

"Like I'd tell you, Dean Winchester," Raziel replied snarkily, and she looked up from arranging her table to glare at the Winchesters. "This is an angelic problem, not humanity's."

Dean, affronted, was about to force her to tell them when Sam took a step forward and said, "But Cas said what you were planning was big enough to damage the whole of reality. How do you know humans aren't going to get caught in the crossfire?"

Raziel laughed. "Of course they will! But I don't care, because this is so much more important than your stupid little minds could imagine, and in the end of it, humanity will only have me to thank," she finished with a cruel smile.

"Not if they've been killed they won't," Dean said angrily, and he stepped forward to join Sam. The two of them shared a look, and then raised their guns at the same time. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we can't let you get away with this."

Raziel's smile dropped, and she spun her angel blade around her fingers again as she regarded them coldly. "So, you're going to be trouble as well, are you?"

"We can't let you hurt anyone, Raziel," Sam replied simply.

"It's nothing personal," Dean smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We just don't like dickbag angels who treat us like we're nothing."

Raziel sighed, and licked her lips in contemplation. The brothers watched, wary, as she reached across and pressed two fingers against the split skin, healing it in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not going to kill you," she finally said, after Dean and Sam had exchanged at least one worried glance. "That would only benefit _her_ plan. So...damn, I'm going to need a long bubble bath after today's drain on power." Raziel stood up properly and flexed her fingers. "Say hi to my brother for me."

Dean's eyes widened, and he and Sam glanced at each other. "What the hell-"

But he was cut off as Raziel's eyes and then his entire world burst into white.

* * *

Dean came to quickly, felt the prickly concrete under his face soon after, and regained his senses in seconds to jump unsteadily to his feet and raise his gun to- the empty warehouse. He blinked, rubbing his eyes in the bright sunlight streaming through the high windows, and looked around to see no Raziel, no table, and his brother... _hang on, sunlight?_

Dean frowned, feeling his wierd-o-meter rocket skywards as he realised it had been one in the morning when Cas had called him to the warehouse. They couldn't have been in there for more than fifteen minutes, but by the height of the sun, it was already way into the day. Just how long had Raziel knocked them out for?

Still, on the bright side, obviously her spell or magic or whatever she did hadn't worked, because they were still most definitely in the same place. Dean jogged over to where Sam was sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs thrown out enough to cover an area probably the size of a small car, and crouched down to hear the distinctive sound of snoring. _Poor kid fell asleep,_ Dean realised, and not for the first time, he worried what effect these trials were having on Sam. He'd definitely been sleeping more than usual this past month. Still, no rest for the wicked, Dean thought, and shook Sam awake roughly. His brother's eyes shot open and he sprang up almost immediately, causing Dean to topple backwards in an attempt to avoid being clocked on the chin.

"Dean?" Sam searched, squinting in the light, and then saw Dean rubbing his ass on the ground. He held out a hand, which was accepted gratefully, as he asked, "You okay down there?"

Dean stood up and brushed himself down, giving Sam a look. "Just about."

"What did Raziel do?" Sam questioned, reaching down to pick up their weapons and handing Dean's handgun over.

"Nothing, by the look of it," Dean shrugged his shoulders and gestured around the room. Sam frowned, and then looked up at the windows just like Dean did, shadowing his eyes.

"Man, how long were we out?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Dean replied, and made a face. "Still, Hoshi Sato seems to have taken a hike, so we should get back to the bunker and try to find Cas."

"Think about what she said, though," Sam contemplated as they walked towards the doors. "She told us to say hi to her brother...I mean, don't you think she means Cas?"

"If so, then he's probably nearby, making our job even easier," Dean nodded, pushing the doors open.

"Yeah, but...she said she sent Cas far-" Sam stopped as the two of them saw a figure in a trenchcoat standing only a few yards ahead of them, looking about with his customary frown.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean called, sticking an arm in the air to try and get the angel's attention. Cas began towards them, and the three met in the middle.

"Hello," Cas sighed, his face looking troubled.

"You okay? Raziel blasted you with some pretty powerful stuff back there," Dean asked, tilting his head to try and see Cas's expression, which was still quite pained.

"I'll live," Castiel replied, looking between the Winchesters. "All things considered, it could have been worse. Raziel is one of the strongest in my family."

"You're telling me," Dean sighed. "She knocked us out so hard we've been gone for what looks like hours."

"Perhaps," Cas replied, and he lifted his head again. "But..." he trailed off.

"Cas?" Sam asked, and Cas licked his lips before looking away.

"I'm probably still imbalanced. Look, what Raziel was planning was dangerous, so we need to be ready. Where are you currently staying?"

Dean grinned. "We got ourselves a place. Literally five minutes away, so let's..." he trailed off as he turned to where he parked last night, only to see an empty innocent space.

Dean took a step back, his hand reaching out to grab the front of Sam's shirt. "Dude. Where's my car?"

Dean's thoughts were whirring a mile a minute, calculating all possible reasons the Impala could be gone and all possible methods he could kill the person who had taken it, while Sam behind him sucked in breath. "Sam, if _she's fucking taken my car-_ "

"Of course not," Castiel said complacently, like he expected it to be gone all along. "I doubt Raziel knows how to drive, and there is no motive for her to take it."

"Then where the hell is she?!" Dean snapped, rounding on Cas for being so calm with that annoyingly indifferent look on his face. Raziel was right - there was something wrong with him, but at the moment Dean didn't really care what because someone had stolen his baby.

"Dean, calm down," Sam stepped between the two of them and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "I don't know where your car is, but don't get pissed at Cas about it, okay? We can't figure anything out if you're biting everyone's heads off."

"Well, he didn't have to be such a dick about it," Dean muttered, but turned away from the two of them and glared at the area where the Impala wasn't, as if he could threaten it back into existence.

"I had a feeling this world was not right when I came to," Cas continued, like there'd never been an interruption. "I thought I was only disoriented, but your observations on the time of day and the absence of the Impala have only strengthened my suspicions."

"So you think something's up with the world?" Sam frowned, watching Cas take a deep breath. "Is Raziel strong enough to do that?"

"This is not her doing," Castiel replied. "It's more like...this world is on one frequency, and we are on another. Something about us is not clicking."

"Yeah, cause that's so happening," Dean intervened, finally giving up on his silent warfare and joining the conversation. "You know, you could just say your spidey senses are tingling, and then we'd all get it."

Cas frowned at him. "I...don't understand. Did you just say I have the sensory perceptions of a spider?"

There was a pause as Dean struggled to find an answer with Cas staring deeply at him, and Sam tried not to laugh at the expressions on their faces, then he gave up and looked away. "Right. How about we...uh, the bunker?"

"Sounds good," Sam agreed at the same time Cas said, "The bunker?"

"Our new joint," Dean explained, trying to forget how weird the world and Cas were right now and focus on bigger things, like Jackie Chan angels trying to break reality. "It's about half a mile west...do you think you can zap us there?"

Cas gave him a look that Dean liked to think of as his _do you even know me_ face (not that Dean liked to think anything about Cas), and reached out to press his fingers against the Winchesters' foreheads.

Dean clenched his eyes shut and concentrated on keeping his stomach in one place, but that didn't stop the definitive feeling of about-to-hurl that came with flying.

Dean had just got his sea-legs back and heard Sam begin to say, "It used to belong to the Men-" when there was a click of a gun behind them and a woman's voice sounded out.

"If you don't tell me what you are, what you're planning and why the fuck you're in my library in the next twelve seconds, I will pump each of you so full of lead I could use you as a pencil, and that's a promise."


	2. The Righteous Woman

Dean, totally unprepared for the voice, didn't even have time to draw his gun from the back of his jeans, and instead froze, brutally aware of the weapon pointed at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam stiffen as well; Cas, on the other hand, had drawn his angel blade and had already turned to face the intruder. Slowly, the Winchesters did a one eighty.

For one crazy moment, Dean thought it was his mom standing there, pointing a handgun at the three of them. But as he blinked, he saw it was another woman, similar features to his mother and wearing the same narrowed expression she often had, but not her. _She's tall for a chick,_ Dean reflected, and she held the gun like she knew how to use it, which wasn't really an advantage. Hot, as well - long sandy hair and bright green eyes glaring at them threateningly, and she was wearing denim cutoff shorts with opaque tights and a worn red shirt left unbuttoned. Still, in the moment of silence as they regarded each other, Dean couldn't help thinking about her threat, and he was the first to speak.

"Ah, I'm sorry - your library?"

The woman's brow tightened, like this was not the way she had expected this conversation to go. "Yes. I finished moving in last week, I'm pretty sure that makes it mine."

"Oh," Dean shrugged, his hands still raised in surrender. "Just because, you know, my brother and I having been living here for the past three weeks and we definitely haven't seen you before."

"What the..." the woman trailed off like she was confused, then she shook her head slightly and raised the gun again. "Look, I don't know what kind of story you're trying to spin me, hot stuff, but it ain't going to work, alright? How did your angel even get in here? This place is supposed to be warded-"

"-against everything, we know," Sam finished, cutting her off snappily. He sighed before continuing, "You're a hunter, aren't you? Well, so are we. We're not demons or ghouls or even Leviathan, so...can you take down the gun?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at him, but something about his tone affected her, as her gun hand relaxed. However, she still dug into her back pocket and tossed a silver hip flask to Sam. "Holy water. Prove it."

Sam raised an eyebrow but complied, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. When he was done, he passed it to Cas, who sheathed his blade and took a hesitant sip as well. Dean was last, and he was just tipping it back when he noticed something. Etched onto the silver near the top of the flask was a tiny pentagram - not unusual for a hunter, except that this pentagram looked a lot like the one he had on his own. Almost exact actually. _What-_

"Dean?" Sam frowned at him, and Dean shook his head slightly and tipped back a mouthful of holy water. _Just a coincidence._

"Happy now?" He wiped his mouth and handed the hip flask back to the woman, who was smiling at him for some reason. "What?"

"Your name's Dean?" she smirked, eyebrows raising, as she replaced the flask back into her pocket, and the gun back into the waistband of her shorts.

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off.

The woman continued smiling, and then held out a hand. "Deanna."

 _Ah._ "Good name," Dean commented, returning the handshake, a little surprised at her strong grip. "Yeah, I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam, and he's Castiel."

Deanna froze, the hand that had just shook Dean's clenching into a fist. Her eyes flickered from each of them slowly, expression getting increasingly shocked.

"Uh, Deanna...?" Sam frowned, taking a step towards her, and Deanna took a step away.

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

The Winchesters glanced at each other, confused, and Cas continued to stare at Deanna curiously, his eyes narrowing. "What's the matter, Deanna?"

"Is this some kind of fucking joke?" Deanna laughed almost disbelievingly, one hand gesturing desperately as she put another foot between them, backing up to the library table.

"Deanna, we don't-" Dean started, and her head whipped around to stare at him.

"You're Dean Winchester..." she said, almost making it sound like a question. Her gaze switched. "And Sam Winchester...and the angel Castiel..." Suddenly, her gun was out again, and Dean made a face. _Does this girl rely on bullets for everything?_ "You're hallucinations, aren't you? After all this time, I'm finally going crazy. I knew it. Deanna Winchester has clocked up all her mental minutes and now she's running on wacky setting. I knew-"

"Deanna Winchester?" Sam's question sounded like it was at the end of a very long tunnel, and Dean was staring at this girl, this woman who had called herself a Winchester. With a name the same as his, and his hip flask, and...

"What...the...fuck?" he drawled out, and now him and her were staring at each other, the reality dawning on both of them at the same time.

"It's a parallel universe," Cas said calmly, and the three Winchesters turned to look at him.

"A what?" Deanna and Dean said together, then frowned and glanced at each other, then sucked in breath and turned to Cas simultaneously. Sam tried not to laugh.

"That was the uneasy feeling I got when I arrived," Cas explained, unperturbed by seeing double Dean, apparently. "Like I feared, we do not belong to this universe - Deanna does. She is this universe's counterpart of you, Dean, although obviously there are some...alterations."

"You mean, like a pair of boobs and an attitude issue?" Dean snapped, glaring at Cas.

"No, the attitude's the same," Cas replied seriously.

Dean's jaw tightened, but he bit back the retort. "And you've waited all this time to share with the class because..."

"I wanted to be sure," Cas shrugged, practically disinterested. Dean's brow crinkled; now that Raziel had pointed it out, the differences in Cas's character were immense, and they scared him more as he wondered what Heaven's new Big Daddy had done to his friend. He watched Cas look past him to Deanna, and then frown further. "Deanna?"

"You're Castiel..." she said slowly, and her eyes raked the trenchcoat and skewed blue tie. "Man, if she could see you..."

"She?" Sam frowned.

"Yes, where are Sam's and my counterparts?" Cas asked, and Dean realised that, of course, if there was a chick him, of course there would be a Sam and Cas as well. In fact, come to think of it, there was probably a Charlie and a Kevin and a Crowley and...his head hurt.

Deanna, avoiding Cas's question and reading Dean's thoughts exactly, announced: "I need a drink."

"Make it a double," Dean said to her, and saw her pour out two glasses of his - her - favourite amber, noting the way her hands were shaking slightly. As she handed him the whiskey, they locked eyes, and it was like looking into a creepy mirror: those were his green eyes, staring out of a face that had his cheekbones and freckles and surrounded by a tangled swathe of his light brown hair, streaked with blonde. Her black henley and red shirt were copies of ones he owned, as well as the matching watches and silver rings on their fingers. Even the pants, despite being jeans and shorts respectively, were the same denim, worn in similar places and bulging with the same handgun at the back. What was really unnerving however, was how much of Mary Dean could see in her; in the shape of her eyes, in the curve of her lips and in the set of her shoulders, a hunter's shoulders. It suddenly hit him how much he must also look like his mom, and he felt himself spoon an ounce of forgiveness onto his late father's plate - if he'd had to look at his dead wife's eyes every time he saw his son, he wouldn't have lasted long on the kindness train either.

It took Dean a moment, but as Deanna turned away and broke the intense size-up between the two of them, he noticed the only difference, and it caused a double-take.

"Your necklace," Dean pointed out, gesturing to Deanna's chest as she sat in the chair already pulled out from the table. Just over her collar, resting in the dip above her chest, there was a gold amulet, tied onto black hemp. He knew the necklace; he'd owned the necklace, for god's sake, but that was with emphasis on the past tense. "Isn't that the one your...uh, sister got you?"

Deanna's fingers reached up to touch it, almost subconciously, and she licked her lips before taking a drink, her head tipping back and forwards so fast Dean could've choked just watching her. She turned away from Dean: "How do I know I'm the Other Mother, anyway?"

Dean, Sam and Cas exchanged glances - none of them had missed the careful avoidance of Dean's question that time. It was Sam who eventually spoke. "Our timelines are probably very similar...why don't you tell us about yourself? We could compare."

Deanna blew through her teeth, like something about what Sam had said was funny. "You know, if you were a shapeshifter, or witchcraft, that's exactly what you'd say."

"Why are you so eager not to trust us?" Cas frowned at her, and for a moment, Dean saw genuine, Castiel worry for her. Even the briefest sight of it calmed him more than he'd like to admit, and he tore his gaze away from his friend to narrow his eyes at Deanna.

"Dude, I know I fight some pretty ridiculous sons of bitches every day, seen shit that would send people to a nuthouse, but even you've got to admit that crossing into a parallel universe all seems a bit Doctor Who, am I right?" Deanna smirked, and her last question was directed at Dean himself, only short of a wink-wink-nod-nod.

Still, he couldn't argue with her, and made a fair-enough face.

Sam, however, wasn't buying it. "What about that time...must have been about, 2011? Balthazar sent us to a universe where our entire lives were a TV show."

"Oh yeah...and you were Polish and married Ruby!" Dean remembered, wincing. "Man, fake me was fucked up...what was his name? Jenny?"

"Wait, that happened to you too?" Deanna stood up, and now she was putting her drink down. "When Balthazar was trying to protect that stupid key that led to jack shit?"

Dean nodded. "I said it then, and I'll say it now: why would anyone want to watch our lives?"

"Totally," Deanna agreed, shaking her head. "My actress listened to bluegrass music and came from Texas. It was embarassing."

There was a moment of silent, painful contemplation for the three of them, and then Sam caught onto something Deanna had said. "So, you had a Balthazar too?"

"Yeah, the blond, British bastard?" Dean asked, smiling slightly at his own wording.

Deanna nodded, and ran her fingers through her hair before shrugging. "Except...I mean, I'm guessing yours was a dude?"

"Well, yeah."

"See, my Balthazar was a chick. It was kind of weird, 'cause of her name, but I never thought about it much since she was a dick."

"It must have been her vessel," Cas finally spoke, and the three Winchesters looked at him. "Angels, as beings of intent rather than physical presence, are obviously gender-neutral, so it's their vessel that decides how they appear. So between these two universes, it must be the gender of the vessel that changes, rather than the angel. I myself am only male-shaped, for example."

"Jeez, Cas, your pick-up lines are really going downhill," Dean joked.

Deanna grinned, but Sam chose to roll his eyes while Cas ignored him and said to Deanna, "Do you know the name of your Castiel's vessel, for instance?"

Deanna's smile dropped, and she looked away before finishing her drink and setting the glass down again. "I'm pretty sure it was Jenny Novak," she finally said, quietly.

Dean watched her intently as Cas nodded, his point proven. If he hadn't been sure something was up before, his suspicions were growing by the second. "So, do you believe us now?"

She took a deep sigh, almost sarcastic. "I guess." Sitting down at the table and tapping a finger on the outspread sheets and books in front of her, she scrutinised them. "So how did you end up in this world?"

"Angel," Dean explained, now leaning against the table with locked arms, while Sam pulled out a chair and Cas moved slightly to stand behind him, not close enough for comfort.

Deanna nodded. "Naturally. Which one?"

"She was called Raziel," Sam replied. "Ring any bells?"

Deanna opened her mouth at the mention of the name, and paused during his question. Her eyes flickered away momentarily, and then she coughed and muttered, "No."

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, then said, "Well, she's causing six kinds of trouble in our Heaven right now, so we need to get back, and soon."

"Well, you can't look at me, hot stuff. You know I got nothing," Deanna replied, pursing her lips and then looking around. "This place, on the other hand..."

"We could try, um, searching for the spell Balthazar used last time?" Sam suggested, eyes lighting up at the prospect of a new lead.

"I could collect any materials," Cas offered, and Dean turned to him, holding up a hand before he had even finished. "What?"

"I think it's best you stay right here, flyboy."

"Why?" Cas frowned at him, like always.

"Well..." Dean trailed off, looking to Sam or Deanna for help. Sam only looked confused in return, while Deanna looked smug for some reason, watching him flounder. "There's a whole host of your family out there, that...well, they're not actually your family, are they? You don't want one of them finding you and realising you're not their Castiel," he finished, satisfied. Truth was, while Cas was playing patriot, he wanted to keep an eye on him. The glimpses of genuine care and worry he'd seen were positive signs, and maybe while Cas was here, he could try to talk to him about it.

After his excuse, Cas watched him for a few moments, but not in the ador- uh, _curious_ way Dean was used to; this look was more calculating, suspicious, and Dean gulped, tearing his eyes away from that cold gaze.

"I shall stay then," Cas decided, glancing at the room around him with the air of one incarcerated. "But we will need someone to gather ingredients."

"That's a problem for Phase 2, Cas," Dean appeased him, breathing out at the angel's acceptance.

"Well, I'd better get to work on the research," Sam interrupted loudly, and Dean blinked out his tunnel vision that contained solely Cas. Maybe that was happening too often for him to like so much. Sam was standing up, shrugging off his jacket and looking over the library with interest.

"Have you started on a filing system yet?" he asked Deanna, who stared at him.

"A what?"

Sam sighed deeply, making an expression that Dean had often seen on his brother when he himself said something similar. He glanced at Deanna, who looked mildly offended, and it amused him a little that he knew exactly what she was feeling. "It doesn't matter," Sam decided, taking a step towards a set of shelves a few blocks over. "Your Sam probably uses the same system I do. Which is...a little weird, actually. Huh. Where is she anyway?" Sam ended nonchalantly, but his tentative look at Deanna told Dean that yeah, he'd not been the only noticing Deanna's behaviour.

Dean glanced at, well, himself, to see her watching Sam and his enthusiasm for the library with a strange expression, almost lost. He leaned forward a little and tapped her on the shoulder. "Uh, Deanna?"

Deanna shook her head, and then looked at her papers again. "Sam's, uh, out."

Sam nodded, and now his eyes were softening, seeing the disturbance his question had caused. It occured to Dean that of course, the type of person his brother was meant he would be caring about Dean no matter whether or not he was a C-cup, and that made him feel grateful.

Then Sam said: "And when will she be back?" and Dean was dragged out of his thoughts.

Deanna began gathering the paper together, and Dean caught sight of a few maps and pages of text in his own handwriting. It made him wonder why Deanna was doing this work, since that sort of thing was always Sam's job. When she was done, the files in her arms, she stood up and looked at Sam calmly. "Later."

With that, she began to walk towards the corridor, shoulders back and hair hiding her expression, but Dean recognised his own stubborn defiance when he saw it. He stood up to call out, but Cas got there first.

"What about your Castiel?"

"She's not mine," Deanna responded, almost automatically, and then sighed and turned. "Cassie's out too."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "And I guess she'll be back later, huh?"

"Yeah, actually," Deanna glared back in response, and Dean resisted grinding his teeth. Man, he could be so stubborn.

"Well, maybe when they get back-" Sam began, but Deanna cut him off.

"I wouldn't wait on it." Now Deanna glanced at each of them, and Dean could practically feel the forced indifference in her gaze as she looked between Cas and Sam. "If you guys want to get back to your world quick, why don't you just get on it? The sooner this is over, the better." And with that, she was out, hair flying.

There was a moment of silence.

"She's troubled," Castiel announced, observant.

"Yeah, no shit," Dean replied, frowning after his double's exit. Even though he was itching to walk straight after her and demand answers for her weird behaviour, he knew not only would he not respond well to that sort of questioning, but he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. The way Deanna acted when the subject of Sam or Cas - or _Cassie_ , apparently - came up...it wasn't looking good.

Sam was obviously thinking the same thing, because he glanced at Dean and sighed. "Let's just leave her be for a while. Maybe's she'll ease up."

"Knowing Dean's behaviour, that sounds unlikely, but she'll appreciate the sentiment," Cas agreed, and then began to browse the library with a skeptical eye.

Dean, for one, was offended. "You know I'm still in the room, right, Cas?"

"Of course," Cas replied blankly, unperturbed. Dean felt a shiver go down his back: Cas's inability to understand social graces was hardly anything new, but this uncaring offense was a whole new level of wrong.

As Sam delved deep into research with confused mutterings about the lack of filing system, Dean followed Cas into the aisles until his brother was just out of view. There, he faked interest in the books as he inched closer to the angel's side, and then dropped the offhand question, "So, how you feeling?"

"Fine," Cas replied, monotone.

"Just 'fine'?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Cas, I ain't seen you in months, you just fought another angel and now we're flatmates with Sliding Doors. You can't be...I don't know, a little thrown?"

"I'm an angel, Dean. Alternate time streams and cross-universe traversion is hardly something I've never heard of," Cas replied thickly, replacing a book on ancient Sumerian texts back on the shelf and narrowing his eyes at Dean. "And the situation with Raziel is...solvable."

"Well, you see, I don't know whether you're telling the truth, because you haven't actually told me what Raziel is up to," Dean shot back, crossing his arms as well he could in the space between them. "What is it, you don't trust me? Me, Cas."

"It's not that," Cas frowned defensively, and a small sick victory was taken in the way Dean's comment had disturbed him.

"Then what?" Dean challenged, and for a moment they only looked at each other, Dean's eyes searching for an answer. Cas only stared back, internal conflict being reflected back. He wasn't on the verge of spilling, obviously, and it frustrated Dean more than he liked. Isolated in these shelves, standing barely five inches away from each other and gaze locked in a childish standoff, there was a sort of electricity in the air - but not the kind that left Dean stuttering and wide-eyed, the kind that stayed with him for hours after it happened. No, this prickling was dangerous, warlike, like Cas was about to attack and Dean was going to fight back.

 _Stupid angels messing with my mind_ , Dean growled internally, but then he saw a change in Cas's expression; no longer guarded, but more relenting. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Dean, you know I don't want to keep secrets from you," Cas explained, voice lower and less angry.

"Then don't," Dean replied, frowning.

Cas shook his head, breaking away from the look and biting at his bottom lip lightly on a way that made Dean watch the movement, intrigued. "When the right time comes, I will tell you everything. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Cas."

Castiel winced at the direct jab at past promises made in the dark forests of Purgatory, and narrowed his eyes at Dean. "For now, we should focus on where we are. I get the feeling Deanna is going to be less helpful than I had hoped, and I know Raziel will make it difficult for us to leave this universe."

"But apart from those little flaws, we're laughing, right?" Dean smirked joylessly.

"You should talk to her," Cas continued like Dean had never spoken. "Take your time obviously, but I think it would be safer if someone more...understanding spoke to her."

"You and Sam understand me," Dean was affronted.

Cas muttered something unintelligible, and ignored Dean's accusative, "What?" when the words sounded a lot like 'not as much as I could'.

"Dean, I know you dislike talking about things, but this is yourself. How hard could it be?"

"Trust me, it'll be hard," Dean raised his eyebrows and huffed out through his nose. When Cas continued to watch him, Dean pursed his lips then spat out, "Fine!"

"Thank you," Cas offered, and he sounded like he genuinely meant it. Dean tried to ignore the tickling feeling somewhere in his ribcage when Cas said that, and uncrossed his arms.

"You owe me," Dean saluted with two fingers, and then walked past the angel to the library's exit. Behind him, he barely heard Cas reply, "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally not happy with this chapter, because I felt like Deanna was being a bit OOC and was pissing me off, then I realised if Deanna was pissing me off I'd probably written her totally right. My fem!Dean is naturally, the beautiful Amber Heard. Thanks for reading!


	3. Winchester the Elder

It was at least an hour later when Dean found Deanna sitting on the roof of the bunker.

It would have probably been less embarrassing if he'd stalled to avoid emotional conversation or something, but instead he'd actually gotten lost. In his defence, they'd been at the bunker for only a month now, and the place was pretty damn big, but it still felt infuriating as he looked through another door only to see another room full of another load of boxes. The Men of Letters could've made directions.

At one point things had looked familiar, and he'd pushed open the door to find his own room - or rather, Deanna's. It looked very similar to his, with all his weapons and the blade from Purgatory hung on the walls, a drawer set full of her clothes (he was assuming - no way was he going through a chick's underwear) and in the nightstand, an old faded picture of Mary Winchester with her arms around a chubby-cheeked girl. The sight of his mom threw Dean a bit, and he added that to the mental list of things to ask Deanna when he found her.

After a quick glance into the cabinet just to see - Playgirl _, huh, can't deny taste_ \- Dean got out and on the move again. Which brought him to now, standing at the top of the metal fire escape and watching Deanna, legs swinging over the side, take apart and clean a few firearms with military precision. A classic boom box was sitting a few feet away, and she was singing along to the Soundgarden track that drifted out towards him, carelessly off-tune.

"Got my arms around my baby brother, put your hands away, you're gonna kill your mother..."

Dean winced, and pushed the lyrics out of his mind as he walked towards her. "You need some help there?"

She didn't jump at his arrival, only stopped singing. "I've got this," she replied, hands never faltering, and Dean could only slide down next to her and look at the bare Kansas landscape, searching for something to say.

"I saw the picture of Mom in your room," he offered, and Deanna made a noncommittal noise. Pause. "I only mention it, 'cause you know...I have the same one."

_'In a striking motion, trees fall down like dying soldiers...'_

"What do you mean?" Deanna asked tonelessly, clicking the chamber in place on a Magnum pistol. Dean noticed her nails were ragged, torn down to the quick, and blinked away from the sight.

"I mean, my mom died in 1983, and I've worked with my dad ever since," he explained, slowly, knowing it was a touchy thing for both of them. "I kind of assumed it was the opposite for you, what with this whole...yeah. But then I saw the photo, and I realised you wouldn't have that if she'd been the one who..."

"I get it," Deanna cut him off, but quietly, not rudely. She began screwing on the chamber gently, and there was another short silence.

_'She'll never make it out alive...'_

"So it was you two guys, and Dad?" Deanna asked, and Dean breathed out a sign of relief that she was being talkative.

"Yeah. For 22 years."

"Bet he was real pleased," Deanna muttered under breath.

"Who, Dad?" Dean frowned.

"You know, having two big strong boys around to do the heavy lifting and fighting. Not two girls, who had to prove they could actually carry a shotgun before leaving the motel for the first time, and got lectured on the expenses of tampons every time of the month," Deanna replied nonchalantly, but her voice had an edge to it, and Dean shivered.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. I mean, you were living it up at your frat house in another parallel universe, you couldn't have known." Now there was sarcasm, and Dean was getting real tired of her shit. Some part of his mind reflected that it was no wonder people didn't like him if it took this long for him to become annoying, while his mouth spat back, "Yeah, I didn't know. But I do know a hell of a lot of other stuff about you, emphasis on the hell."

Deanna's fingers tightened on the Glock she was unloading, and right at that moment the song finished, leaving an awkward silence. Both waited until heavy guitars signalled the arrival of the next song, Gun (and yeah, no irony was lost on Dean there), before Deanna said quietly: "Look, how about we agree that I know an shit ton of your secrets, and you know a shit ton of mine, and we never talk about them again."

"I could get on board with that," Dean replied, straight off the mark, and Deanna chuckled slightly. She was real pretty when she smiled, Dean realised for the first time, and he told her as much.

"Aw, you're quite the charmer, Ken doll," Deanna smirked, a voice dripping with Dean's own trademark attitude.

Dean winked in return, and Deanna rolled her eyes. "I have a gun in my hand, Winchester, you wanna test how fast I can load it?"

Dean laughed, hands held up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, point taken. You got to admit, it'd be just like us to start flirting with ourself, though."

"Never said it wasn't," Deanna dropped casually, and Dean shook his head at her while she removed the patch of the Glock and slid a bore brush down the centre a couple of times.

"So are we good now?" Dean tried, hesitantly. Man, he was high maintenance.

"Depends. If by "good" you mean I'm not going to blow your head off anymore."

"Well, yes, but we could always be BFFs for life and trade necklaces if you really want."

"Ha, ha. Imagine me being friends with myself."

"I'm sure it would make a great scientific study on the deep psychological issues of split personalities."

"Hey, I don't have a split personality, I'm egotistical. Get your facts straight, Freud."

Dean pressed a hand against his forehead dramatically. "Are we trying to have a battle of wits here? Because I get the feeling it could go on for a while."

"Mainly because I can predict everything you're going to say," Deanna nodded, and then placed the completed Glock back on the ground next to her. There was quiet once again, but the amicable kind. Chris Cornell carried on crooning about war in the background, and Dean watched the sun in it's low February position cruise slowly towards west. It was getting colder, he noticed, and realised they didn't have any clothes or weapons should they have to stay longer than a day.

Almost reading his mind, Deanna glanced up at him. "You think our crack research team back there will find anything today?"

"Well, you know Sam, his dates can last all week," Dean sighed. "When I left he was making bedroom eyes at a pile of books the size of him, so I really can't say."

"Yeah, Sam loved research all right," Deanna smiled at his joke, fiddling with her necklace almost unconsciously. Dean glanced at it, and then at her as she mentioned her sister.

"Speaking of Sam..." he began, a cruel exploitation of the truce they'd reached, he knew, but he wanted to know. Yet as he predicted, Deanna turned away and began putting her cleaning equipment back in it's box, a literal cold shoulder.

"Deanna, look, it's obvious you don't want to talk about it-"

"Good call."

"And trust me, I know. You know I know. But if we're gonna be here, for a couple of days at least, can you drop the Allison Reynolds act and not clam up every ten seconds?"

Deanna paused, before dropping four guns into Dean's arms and grabbing her own. When they where standing up, she narrowed her eyes at him carefully. He raised an eyebrow, questioning, and then she sighed.

"Go on. I know you want to. Hit me."

Dean's eyes widened, not expecting this response. "What, and you're okay-"

"If I don't want to answer I'll veto it," Deanna drawled. "Shoot."

"Okay..." Dean paused, suddenly feeling put upon. Deanna watched him, and in a fit of sympathy Dean went easy on her. "Sam and uh, Cassie won't be back later, will they?"

Deanna's gaze stayed on his. "No."

"And they won't be back in a couple of days, will they?"

"No."

"And they've been gone for a while, haven't they?"

"Yes."

"How long is that, exactly?" Now her gaze flicked away, and there was a moment when she swallowed and he saw her eyes and yeah, it wasn't looking good. "Three years."

 _Fuck._ Dean's jaw dropped and Deanna continued to look at her boots; the tough scuffed kind made of tan leather and laced up her shins. A small (very small) corner of Dean's mind was starting get jealous of her wardrobe. The rest of Dean's mind was prevalently occupied on more important things.

"Oh, and Sam's been gone for five," Deanna added, muttering.

"Five years?"

"Don't worry, I've had time to adjust," Deanna spat out, walking towards the metal stairs.

"Oh yeah, totally," Dean replied with just as much sarcasm, and Deanna stopped. Music was still trailing through the speakers behind them.

_'This one took the hard road, I ain't saying who, but it wasn't me...'_

Dean walked over and turned the boom box off, plunging the roof into silence. Deanna watched him, something guarded and deeply hurt in her eyes.

"What happened to her?" Dean asked, and Deanna bit her lip.

"Veto."

"What happened to Cassie?"

"Veto."

"Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

"Why the hell should I?" Deanna snarled back, and she ran a hand through her hair in exasperation before licking her lips and glaring at Dean. "Why do I have to tell you anything? Why can't you just stay here and exploit my library and joke about our history and borrow my porn or whatever, and then fuck off back to your parallel universe with your Sam and Castiel, all nice and breathing, and save the day and end it all with an cold beer in your baby? Why do you have to give two fucks about me? You don't even give two fucks about yourself, and this is hardly different!"

"But you are different!" Dean replied angrily, and now they were close and crowding, his whole six foot two inch height towering over her, what, five foot eight? "You're living in this bunker all on your own and you don't have a sister or a best friend or even a sense of humour, apparently! Three years ago, I was trying to save my ex-girlfriend from demons while my brother was recovering from Hell 'cause my best friend tried to open Purgatory which, FYI, we took an express ticket to last year and only got out thanks to a vampire! I bet you didn't even do any of that!"

"I did go to Purgatory, actually, and Bethy got me out of there, and she's a good friend so don't you start talking shit about her!"

"Really?" Dean blinked, distracted. "But how long did it take you to get out?"

"Like, a couple of months?" Deanna frowned, taken aback by the change in conversation. "Why, didn't your Bethy know where the portal was or something?"

"Oh no, Benny knew it was there, alright. It was me."

"What'd you do?"

"I was looking for Cas," Dean explained.

"Cas? But she - he wasn't-" Deanna stopped. "Huh. Timelines."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean gave her a pointed look. Deanna glanced away from his judging stare and instead shuffled the guns in her arms.

"Please, Dean," she burst out suddenly, and when she looked at him her expression was rawer than he'd ever seen it before, teeth chewing her bottom lip. "I don't want to talk about it. Not right now. And you, of all people, should know to leave me on that."

Dean sighed. No matter how annoying she was, Deanna had a point. "Fine."

"And I'm sorry for being a bitch," Deanna added. "When you turned up it was kinda...a shock, I guess. But I'll try and play nice from now on."

"Could you also try not to shoot me?" Dean smiled.

Deanna thought about it, pouting and raising her eyebrows in an expression so similar to his own it was slightly unnerving. "Might be harder."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's get back to Xander and Willow down there. We'll need to sort out some rooms for tonight, as well," he called back over his shoulder as they clattered down the stairs.

"Sure. How many will you need?" Deanna replied, and Dean stopped.

"Well, three, obviously," he frowned, looking up at her.

Deanna looked confused for a second, then her expression turned slightly bitter. "Yeah, obviously." When Dean continued to stare at her, thrown, Deanna shrugged and brushed it off. "Just, thought Cas didn't sleep."

"Oh yeah," Dean remembered. "Well, give him a room anyway," he concluded, and pointedly ignored the look Deanna gave him as he turned around, somewhere between oh-you-beautiful-idiot and I-will-fuck-you-up.

He'd had enough conversations with himself to last a lifetime.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Castiel felt restless.

The library had entertained him all of two minutes, which was surprisingly considering such a vast array of information on the supernatural world should keep him interested for hours. However, some part of Castiel's mind whispered that there was no more time for reading, that he should be fighting and taking down Raziel and her scheme. It was an itch, an urge to be doing good, that had been haunting Castiel ever since his mysterious escape from Purgatory. To be perfectly honest, a lot of Castiel's actions were mysterious these days.

Still, here in this parallel universe, he felt useless. Dean had disappeared, per his request, to talk to Deanna, and Sam was looking for a way out for them, but he had nothing to do and nowhere to go, since Dean had told him to stay. Again, that small part of his mind told him to ignore Dean's orders, to up and leave anyway. There were bigger things at stake, like the destruction on his siblings and his home, than one puny human who had no power over an Angel of the-

Castiel halted that train of thought right there, frowning. More and more, the voice of doubt in his mind was sounding like someone else than himself, or at least the angel he used to be, before Dean Winchester had convinced him of free will. Maybe that was why he found it a lot easier to ignore the voice's commands when it came to Dean, because it only served to remind him why he should not follow it. So Castiel told the voice sternly that if Dean asked for him to stay, he would.

To try and ignore his doubts, Castiel tried to tune into his family's thoughts in this universe ("angel radio", as Dean called it), but was unsuccessful. A different frequency, as he'd said earlier, and the small pun made him smile.

That left him still bored, and he could only pace back and forth in the aisles of the library for the next 36 minutes and 27 seconds exactly, before a noise caught his attention.

Castiel turned and stepped around the shelves to see Sam Winchester, frozen in his research, coughing loudly, the hacking kind that sounded like he was trying to dislodge something from his throat. Castiel could see immediately that it was causing him pain, Sam's arms wrapped around his stomach, and Castiel inched closer, unsure.

"Sam?"

Sam coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand, and looked up at Cas, attempting a smile. "Hey."

"You're in pain," Castiel stated, helpfully.

Sam shook his head, his coughs pausing for a second. "I'm fine, Cas, really. It's," cough, "it's nothing."

Castiel shook his head - he could sense Sam's discomfort from here, and it worried him. He held up a hand. "I could always, as your brother says, heal you up, if you-"

Sam now shook his head violently, turning down the offer as best he could while still coughing. Cas tried to protest, but suddenly Sam shuddered, coughing once more, and then he took his hand away slowly. Both he and Cas saw the sticky lump of blood there before Sam pulled his hand away quickly, removing a tissue from his pocket to wipe it away.

"Sam," Cas breathed out, moving to stand beside him while the younger Winchester looked away. Seeing Sam's pain brought up a sudden well of guilt for some reason, and it signalled a sudden wave of emotion that took him by surprise. "You're not okay. Does your brother know? Have you sought medical attention? I could-"

"Cas, Cas, stop, okay," Sam waved a hand, trying to calm down Cas's sudden worried questions. He gave the angel a strange look before saying, "It's really nothing, Cas. Just a flu. I don't need to worry Dean about it."

Cas frowned, Sam's behaviour still bothering him more than it should. "So Dean doesn't know. But you...you had a tissue. You knew you were going to cough up blood."

"Well, no, that's not what I wanted," Sam sighed, raising his eyebrows and propping his elbows up on the desk. "But yeah, I knew I'd cough. Like I said, just the flu."

Castiel continued to watch him, not satisfied. He cared about Sam a lot, despite previous; regrettable actions, and he knew him well enough to recognise a hint of unease when he saw it. However, after just a second, Sam looked away from him and began studying the book in front of him again, so Cas gave up.

However, even as he pulled out a chair at the table and picked up _A Study In Spellwork: Magical Revolutions of the 15th Century_ , and the voice in his head took it's cue to continue whispering doubts to him, for the first time in a long time, the need to look after the Winchesters did not go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more filler/character development than anything else, but trust me, the shippy/plot is coming in the next chapter. Also, I'm happy to offer any explanation on any references I threw in here - having two Deans obviously means it could get quite confusing. Lastly, thanks to Cardinala for bookmarking!


	4. Interlude 1: Deanna

**September 24 2010**

Suburban life was not easy, but it was simple. There were groceries that needed to be done on Saturday mornings, the same list tacked to the fridge door every week; Ben needed to do his homework every Tuesday and Friday, two hours each time, and a vocab test after; work hours were nine to five, like the song, with lunch break at twelve on the dot. If she wanted to take a shopping trip with some friends, it was arranged on Thursdays for the coming weekend, if she needed "Dee time", as her boyfriend called it, she could have it Sunday afternoons, when the game was on and she lost conversation with any male in a five mile radius. There was a routine, and it was stuck to, like a status quo of surviving the apocalypse.

The monotony gave her too much time to think, more often than not. Think about what had brought her here, fending off cat calls as she unbuttoned her boiler suit after a day of construction or learning how to make paella from a book borrowed from Liam's friend's mother's hairdresser or some equally boring person. She sometimes got echoes, hallucinations of things said or done before Cicero, during a different lifetime of roads and cheap soap and sharpened knives, when someone said something that reminded her too much of the past.

She buried it deep down; the way she always dealt with things that were too painful to remember, and tried to live for the moment, as she had never done before. When Liam kissed her, she kissed him back hard; when Ben made her laugh, she laughed a little too loud; when she tripped and scraped her knee on a brick wall, five weeks after arriving at the Braedens' doorstep, she cried for three hours longer than a seventy-five pound woman should ever been seen crying for. The method never saved her the fair share of strange looks and whispers, but it worked. It made the people closest to her happy, and when they were happy, she could find peace in that.

Right now, however, the person closest to her was the slightly overweight brunette sitting across from her, and she was definitely not happy.

"...and thank god this is all before Facebook, right? Because it'd be me and that goat all over the Internet. Don't get me wrong, right? No complaints," Sidney added, hands waving as she described her crazy college years in great detail. "But if you'd have said to me, 'hey, you? Fifteen years from now - suburbia,'" she finished with a knowing look to Deanna, as if she had any idea what Sidney was on about.

There was a pause as Deanna realised this was her cue to say something. "Oh. Yeah," she replied, eloquently.

"Right?" Sidney raised an eyebrow, as if she was some grade school kid who'd forgotten her two times tables.

Deanna nodded, thinking about what Sidney had said. "Believe me, I know."

Sidney watched her, as if expecting expansion on that, but Deanna chose instead to finish her glass of white wine and consider it carefully, wondering if it was too late to get another. After a few moments, Sidney leaned forwards and smiled. "So...you've traveled around a lot, huh?"

"Mm...hmm," Deanna replied slowly, deciding at eleven on a Wednesday was too late to order another drink, and setting her glass down. "Yeah, my whole life, pretty much," she said, truthfully.

"And?"

Deanna frowned, confused where this conversation was going. "...I don't know," she finished.

Sidney sighed, nearly sliding off her chair as she straightened herself out tipsily. "Come on. You...what, you moved in, what, a year ago?"

"Yeah, thereabouts," Deanna nodded slowly.

"So," Sidney raised a finger, dictator-like. "That means I've been buying you drinks for a year. And I think that means you owe me a couple of gory details," she finished with a wink, and Deanna shuddered as Sidney didn't realise just how close to the truth her adjective came.

Instead, Deanna waved it off, laughing and shrugging. "Oh, no, Sidney. There's not much to tell, you know? It's, uh...I lived on the road..." Deanna struggled to find a description that was not an outright lie. "I took jobs that no-one else wanted."

"Like?" Sidney pressed, and Deanna mentally cursed the work of Satan that was soccer moms.

"Like..." she began, and pursed her lips, searching in desperation, before blurting out, "pest control."

"Really?" Sidney seemed surprised, as if Deanna didn't look the type to be crawling around in air shafts wearing a biohazard suit. Which was true; white washed her out. "Pest control?"

"Yeah," Deanna carried on quickly, liking this analogy, "You get to work with a partner. You get to help people. I mean, " here she chuckled at her own pun, "you have no idea what's in some people's walls. It could eat 'em alive."

"Yeesh," Sidney shivered, seemingly enraptured in the story.

"Course," Deanna finished, "that was then. And now..." she smiled tightly and raised an eyebrow, waving a hand at the bar to signal their waiter. She didn't really want to talk about this anymore.

"You're practically respectable," Sidney smirked, and Deanna made a face.

"Yeah. Wow. I guess so. That's...kind of scary, actually." The waiter came over, a dark-haired guy with some muscles to sweat over, effectively cutting off the conversation. As Deanna handed him a couple of bills, she noticed filigree tattoos up his forearm and disappearing into his shirt sleeve, tattoos she recognised from somewhere. She brushed it off quickly, however, not wanting to get into that suspicious frame of mind again, and dragged her eyes away to see the waiter had already noticed her interest and, by the way he took a little too long to write their receipt and ghosted his fingers across her wrist as she took the slip of paper, taken it the wrong way.

"Thanks, guys," he said loudly, but his smile was for Deanna as he left. She sighed internally, pushing memories of days when that would have been all the invitation she needed away.

"I think he likes you," Sidney commented as she tucked her pocket book under arm and raised an eyebrow at Deanna.

"You think?" she replied, holding up the receipt. _Brett, call me!_ followed by an area code and a string of numbers.

Sidney opened her mouth, then snapped it shut in frustration. "What is it with you?" she whined, almost snarkily, as Deanna shook her head and pulled her jacket on, the two of them standing now. "Like, every time!"

As they walked towards the exit, Deanna smiled. "It's like guys specifically dig unavailable chicks," she mused, and made a point of stopping at the bin in full view of the bar and tearing up their receipt. "Who knew?"

Outside in the night, Sidney pulled her close for a squishy, uncomfortable hug. "I will see you tomorrow," she called out, slurring a little. "I'll see youuuuu..." she trailed off, disappearing round a corner.

Deanna shook her head, laughing. Some people were so...typical.

She made her own way to a Ford pick-up truck, the dented kind that could be picked up at a garage for a mint. It wasn't classy or smooth-running, but she felt inconspicuous in it, just part of the background of Cicero when she drove. Which was exactly what she wanted to be.

Just as she was unlocking however, someone screamed.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she acted without even thinking about it, dropping the keys back in her pocket and reaching into the truck bed. Underneath a pile of splattered woollen construction sheets, she found a heavy flashlight and a Beretta, her fingers closing over the cool metal like a welcome home.

Only as she was pressed flat along the wall of the abandoned hotel where the scream came from, flashlight dancing over dusty tables, did it occur to her what she was doing. She paused for a moment, torn between her instinct that told her to help who was in trouble, and going back to warmth and family and her boyfriend's arms. Then there was a scrape from upstairs, and she rashly decided to explore only before slipping up the steps.

The corridor was empty, red rotting carpet sending up dust clouds where she trod, but a door at the end caught her eye, slightly ajar. The floor around it was brighter than the rest, as it the door had been opened and closed at least a few times, and when she touched the handle lightly, it turned with ease. Oiled.

It was only when she shut the door that she saw the print on the back; red, with four short pointed digits and a flat, circular palm. A claw print in blood.

* * *

 

Barely thirty minutes later, Deanna was sitting at her computer in Liam's study, phone pressed to her ear and gnawing a hole in her thumb.

"And, no-one's called in about a missing person?"

_Sorry, ma'am, we're still tracking the Liv Parsons case from last month, if-_

"No, this would have been today," she cut off the secretary.

_Nothing today, I'm afraid, although these things do take twenty-four hours to come through usually..._

"So no reports of anything around Vineland and Oak street, near that hotel renovation?"

 _No...why, ma'am, do you know of any suspicious activity-_ the secretary sounded wary now, and Deanna hurriedly covered herself.

"Uh, call it a hunch. I've been a cop a long time." _I was an electrician too. A mechanic, an FBI agent, a waitress...on Thursdays, I'm a teddy bear doctor._

_Well, I'm sorry, there's been no reports on missing persons filed today..._

"Okay, yeah."

_You could check back in twenty-four hours as usually that's the window. Or I can take down your name-_

"No, I'll call tomorrow."

_Then have a good night, ma'am._

"You too. Bye."

Deanna placed the phone back on the receiver and was lost in thought when she heard a cough by the door. She looked up to see Liam standing there, brown hair sticking upwards and pyjama pants trailing hems on the floor, and her stomach felt all warm.

"Dee? Who was that?" he asked, voice cracking with sleep.

The lie took her less than a second, but then again it all depended on how much he had heard. "Sidney. Just trying to find out when I can pick up that twine."

Liam blinked. "It's 11:30."

 _Caught._ "Is it really?" she bluffed, glancing at the clock and feigning surprise. "Well, that explains why she was asleep when I called."

Liam nodded, his tired brain seeming to accept the excuse, and Deanna gestured upstairs. "I'll be right up."

Liam smiled softly, and she felt guilty for lying to him. Liam Braeden was one of the only truly good people she knew, who also knew the truth about her past, and being around him made her want to be better. "Okay," he murmured, and shuffled away.

She sat there for another ten minutes, mind at war over whether to investigate further or stick to her routine, but eventually sleep got the better of her and she gave up the ghost.

However, just before going upstairs, she poured salt lines across every downstairs window.

* * *

 

The next morning found Deanna driving to work, mind full of numbers and mechanics in preparation for the day ahead. Her discovery the night before had barely crossed her mind until she glanced out of her window to turn a corner and her gaze was caught by another red claw, spattered across an electric pylon in full daylight.

She hit the brakes in seconds, pulling over onto the sidewalk and jumping out the truck cabin. Her hand fumbled for the Beretta, now tucked into the waistband of her jeans like old times, and it suddenly hit her she'd done that this morning without even thinking about it. Old habits die hard.

She crept past the handprint to the house behind, checking for cars in the driveway before following the fence at the edge to the gate. There were more drops of red, and now the distinct print of fingers in blood on the gate. She narrowed her eyes, muscles tensed, and she reached out to the door handle. There was a light scratching on the other side, she could hear now, and she raised the Beretta and snapped off the safety, before pushing the door open to reveal-

A Yorkshire terrier shot out to yap at her legs unthreateningly, and she jumped in surprise before relaxing and almost giggling at her paranoia. Jeez, first thing on a Thursday was not the time-

"Deanna! Is that a gun?" Her head snapped up to see Sidney on the other side of the fence, sweating from a morning jog and her iPod earphones in one hand, mouth dropped open in the picture of shock.

Deanna looked at the Beretta, and back at the house and the open back gate, and yeah, it didn't look too good. "No, no!" she defended quickly, and then realised it most definitely was a gun, and corrected herself. "Well, yeah. It's- I got a permit for it," she added hopefully, as if this made anything any better.

"To shoot the Glickmans' dog?" Sidney frowned, but her shoulders loosened and Deanna could shake this off.

"I thought it was a possum," she said brightly, tucking the Beretta back in her jeans. "Remember when I said I was in pest control? Well, possums carry rabies, so..." she raised two fingers and mimed a gunshot, and Sidney flinched. Deanna licked her lips nervously.

"I did not know that," Sidney murmured, glancing at the ground as if an army of possums, frothing at the mouth, was about to leap at her.

"Oh yeah," Deanna nodded, smiling sweetly. "Possums- possums kill, Sidney." She decided to leave the frankly disastrous conversation there and get back to her truck, but a flash of yellow caught her eye on the ground, and she froze.

"Oh, crap."

"What?" Sidney sounded scared, probably still thinking about the possums.

"Sulfur," Deanna whispered, reaching down to poke a finger into the crumbling powder. "I got to go."

She turned on her heel, work and Sidney forgotten, as the woman shouted after her. "Hang on, Deanna! What the hell?"

* * *

 

Deanna stood in front of the tarp, lips pursed, almost afraid to to pull back the fabric and reveal the shining black metal she knew by heart. It'd been a year since she'd tucked her baby into the garage and threw the tarp over her, even with Liam watching and frowning, asking her, "Are you sure? I remember you loved that car at nineteen, and if you-" but she'd explained the memories it held, and spouted some bullshit about it being a symbol the life she was trying to leave behind, and he'd ran fingers through her hair and pulled her in for a tight bear hug, his chin bumping her cheek.

Now, Deanna shook him out of her head and tried to focus on the task at hand. No use getting distracted. Snapping a band off her wrist, she pulled her hair up into a pony, the tips brushing the curve of her shoulders. Long hair was something she was used to now after nearly four years of it; after twenty-seven years of her short, asymmetrical bob that needed shampoo about once a year and stuck up sideways in the mornings, she'd started growing it out and truth told, she liked it. It got in the way sometimes, like now, but she'd made a habit of wearing elastics on her wrist for emergencies.

Breathing in deep, she threw the tarp back and smiled subconciously at the sight of the Impala, still gleaming after a year in the dark. She clicked the trunk open and began shuffling through her vast array of weapons, some hitting their second generation of ownership with her and some so new they still gleamed.

She was searching for her EMF meter and rosary for holy water when there was movement at the garage door.

"Hey," Liam smiled, but she knew he was worried about her being at the back of the car after all this time.

"Just getting a hammer," she lied, about to launch into some tale of the construction manager leaving the keys in his other car or something, but Liam just nodded and looked around the garage, not meeting her eye. She continued to riffle through the weaponry when Liam shuffled closer, arms crossed and leaning against the fender.

"So, I just ran into Sidney," he murmured, and now a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did you almost shoot a Yorkie?"

Deanna had to admit, when Liam put it like that, it sounded pretty funny. She breathed in a sigh and struggled to keep a straight face. "Technically."

Liam grinned, and now she shook her head at him and tossed the penknife she was holding back into the trunk. She leaned on the rubber, arms locked as she ran her eyes across the guns and knives, and then Liam asked, "What's going on?"

Deanna glanced at the ground, her hesitation a second too long. "Nothing."

"How come I don't believe you?" Liam replied, and she just knew he was raising an eyebrow behind her and giving her that can't-fool-me look he used on Ben when he was trying to go out when they both knew he hadn't done his work.

Deanna bit her lip, and then turned around and ran a hand through her hair, fingers fiddling with her pony as she looked into his sincere brown eyes. Explaining was going to be difficult. "I just- uh, I-I got this - I don't know, spidey sense," she tried, eloquently.

"Okay," Liam nodded, narrowing his eyes in a way that implied he wasn't really okay at all. There was another pause, and then he tipped his head slightly to one side and asked, "Are you hunting something?"

Deanna sighed. _Busted._ "Honestly?" she raised her eyebrows, and then moved closer to him, looking down to twine their fingers together as he uncrossed his arms. "Uh, at first, I thought I was. But, I'm pretty sure I got worked up over nothing. It's, uh, you know..." She trailed off, trying to think of a better way of saying 'my only way to deal with my sister being sent to eternal damnation and me surviving a boring suburban life'.

But Liam seemed to get it, because he nodded, and shrugged. "It happens."

Deanna frowned, making a derisive noise. "Are you sure?" Then she had an idea, to keep them both happy, and grinned. Sliding her fingers over his shirt and looking up through her lashes, she said, "I'll tell you what- just because, you know, I have an OCD thing about this, why don't you and Ben go out to the movies, do a guy thing like a diner or something - you know, hang out with the teeming masses, and I'll do one last sweep just to be 100%."

Liam frowned, seemingly about to argue; despite years as a single dad after Ben's mum didn't what anything to do with the kid, he and Ben were getting to that phase were appropriate conversation seemed to come in the form of grunting, and it was annoying Deanna no end. However, as she knew he would, he nodded eventually and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Okay. Just be careful."

Deanna gave her trademark smirk. "Careful's my middle name."

After Liam left, however, and she heard the car pull out of the drive, the idea of doing a quick check suddenly sounded a lot more dangerous. It wasn't just the idea of another hunt, after all this time; it was the knowledge that her meddling in this stuff put Liam and Ben in danger, and that was one thing she definitely did not want to do.

She was searching through the Impala's trunk again, rosary located and now on a mission for a box of gunpowder capsules she could fill with salt when the light flickered.

Deanna froze, gut instinct telling her something was wrong as the light crackled and popped again, and then winked out completely. She cursed under her breath as she approached the small window to pull it's blinds open, and now scoured the room with her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever had caused the short-circuit. She circled the room slowly, rosary still clutched in her hand, and looked behind every shelving unit and box, but nothing was there.

The hairs on the back of her neck were still prickling, but she was sure of her isolation until she turned around to face the car again and was met with an awfully familiar pair of yellow eyes.

"Hiya, Deanna!" Azazel chirped, her vessel's Southern twang freezing Deanna on the spot. _No._

Azazel laughed, the stench of sulfur hitting Deanna hard as the demon opened her arms. "Look what the apocalypse shook loose. You have fun sniffing my trail? 'Cause I sure had fun patting you around."

Deanna finally found her voice, stepping backwards from Azazel as she stammered out, "You can't be..."

"Oh, sure I can!" Azazel smiled, following Deanna's retreat with light, casual steps. The last time Deanna had seen her, slumped against a grave in Wyoming next a gate into Hell, the demon had been burnt out, dead; now, she looked perkier than ever, with her platinum grey bob and an oversized army jacket that made her look like some aging Harley Quinn.

"No," Deanna said again, as if denying it would remove the demon. She backed up against her baby, hands fumbling behind her back for the Beretta.

"Yeah, kiddo," Azazel replied, still grinning sickeningly. "The big daddy brought your pal Cassie back, right? So why not me? Add a little spice to all that," here she paused to wink at Deanna, as if they were in on some secret together, "that sugar."

The pass at Cassie was what tipped Deanna over the edge. Her shaky fear suddenly gone, she pulled up the Beretta and shot Azazel once - twice - three times through the chest, each one sending her another step back. It didn't kill her, obviously, but it made Deanna feel a hell of a lot better.

Azazel, however, was on a whole other spectrum of angry as she surged towards Deanna, twisting the gun out of her wrist with one hand and grabbing her throat with the other, pinning her against the hood.

"Really? After all we've been through together?" Azazel snarled, and for a moment the look in her eyes was feral, murderous, and that sent shiver down Deanna's spine that went all the way to her toes. Then the grin was back, and Azazel turned her head to the side like an animal watching it's prey. "You know, you got a great little life here. Handsome man - real understanding. Hell of a kid. And how do you keep your lawn so green?"

Azazel laughed, and then she pulled Deanna off the hood like a rag doll and threw her down, pressing a foot into her back and yanking her head up with her pony, and _ow, why the hell did she grow her hair again?_

"I mean, come on, Deanna," Azazel leant down to whisper into her ear with a whiff of sulfur. "You've never been what I'd call brainy, but did you really think you were gonna get to keep all this? You had to know we were coming for you sometime, babe."

Azazel removed the foot and tossed Deanna over, kneeling down to clamp her hands around her throat. Deanna struggled, hard, but the demon was infinitely stronger, fingers pressing into her jugular and cutting off her air.

"You can't outrun your past," Azazel shouted, and now Deanna's vision was tunnelling as the demon giggled again, edges of her sight going black and her fingers buzzing with blood free of oxygen. She felt herself slump, hit the ground, and in her last second before going unconscious she swore she saw Sam reaching out to her.

* * *

 

Some time later, Deanna jerked into consciousness, breathing hard and immediately wary of her survival. The bed underneath her was hard, a thin mattress over wooden slats, and the ceiling above was peeling and off-white. She sat up slowly, rubbing her throat where there were definitely going to be some marks.

"Hello, Deanna," a voice said, and Deanna's head whipped round to see the trenchcoat-wrapped figure of her best friend leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, watching her calmly.

Deanna opened her mouth, and then shut it again. For a moment, she almost blurted out her thoughts - _I thought you were Sam_ \- and then exchanged them for a simple, "Cassie. You saved me."

"If by saved, you mean pulled you from the grips of a hallucination; then yes, I suppose I did," Castiel replied, unabashed. The timbre of her low voice was exactly as Deanna remembered it, and she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"Hallucination?" she frowned, blinking and trying to cast her mind back. "I don't think I- there was Yellow Eyes, and she-"

"You saw Azazel?" Cassie cut in, interested, and pushed herself from the wall with both hands and walked towards Deanna.

"'Saw'?" Deanna picked up, and now Cassie took a deep breath.

"You were poisoned, Deanna. Whatever you saw, it wasn't real."

"Any of it?" Deanna questioned, worried. Cassie confirmed with a slight tip of her head forward.

"No."

 _So I didn't see Sam_ , Deanna thought, and now her stomach hurt. She pushed thoughts of her lost sister away and focused on something infinitely closer. Standing up, Deanna looked at the angel in front of her; "Cassie, man, what are you doing here?"

"I was...watching out for you," Cassie said slowly, after a pause as if to work out a correct response to the question.

Deanna frowned, skeptical. "I need looking after now, do I?"

"I wasn't 'looking after' you, as you say," Cassie responded defensively, and her frown deepened. "After what happened at Stull-" here Deanna flinched, and Cassie stopped, allowing her a moment as Deanna licked her lips, regaining control once more; "-I felt an obligation to make sure you were coping. I have to say, you've settled here well."

"Yeah, well, it was much easier when I wasn't getting poisoned," Deanna raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. That," Cassie pursed her lips. "You were attacked by djinn."

"Djinn? Why?"

"I'm assuming they wanted to feed off you," Cassie reiterated. "There is no possibility they could have known who you were, so take it as a random attack."

"So they won't go after Ben or Liam," Deanna nodded to herself, and Cassie tipped her head to one side in infuriatingly delicate way that made something in Deanna's abdomen feel light. She got the feeling now, and it was a sudden change to the numbness she'd been feeling for a year.

"You want to go back to them?" Cassie seemed confused.

Deanna paused. "Yeah," she said finally, slowly. "I should."

Cassie nodded, suddenly seeming unsure, and her gaze locked with Deanna's, obtrusive and curious and calm, all at the same time. She hadn't seen that look in a year, forgotten the way Cassie's blue eyes could make her feel suddenly exposed and vulnerable, like an open book. It took her some seconds to drag her gaze away.

"I had assumed you'd want to hunt the djinn," Cassie said, yes following Deanna as she looked around the small derelict room they were in, looking anywhere except the angel.

That took Deanna by surprise, and she made a blustered noise of denial, running a hand through her hair quickly. "No! Well, yes, but...no, no, I really should get back to Liam and Ben. I'm...I'm not part of that life anymore, Cassie," she finished, somewhat pathetically.

"I see," Cassie nodded, clipped, and something in the way she looked away dejectedly made Deanna feel bad. Remembering the way Cassie had said she was checking in on her, Deanna asked, "Where have you been all year, anyway?"

"Heaven, mostly," Cassie breathed deeply, as if this was a long and complicated subject. She looked good, it suddenly occured to Deanna, traditional outfit of tan trenchcoat, blue tie and smart black skirt all in order, and her usually messy dark hair was neatly curling its way down her back. Her appearance was explained as she carried on, "I've spent the last year as a wave of celestial intent, mainly. Things have been...intense, so to speak."

"Bet Heaven's all ruffled up since Michael and Lucifer got put in the naughty corner, huh?" Deanna joked, with a small chuckle, but Cassie's reply was serious: "It's civil war."

"Shit," Deanna breathed out. "Is it bad?"

"Chaos." The clipped answers were a bad sign, and now Cassie's jaw had tightened as she regarded Deanna with cold distaste on the subject. "But I will handle it."

Deanna let it slide, sensing the tension around Heaven and Cassie, and moving on the other things. "Well, thanks for saving me back there. I'd better be off," she nodded awkwardly, after another short silence, and just as she turned on her heel with a salute, Cassie stopped her.

"Deanna."

"Uh-huh?"

"If you change your mind," Cassie said shortly, and held out two fingers where a folded piece of paper was caught. Deanna took it, wary. Inside, there was a name and a cell number, but it was the name that made Deanna stop.

"Samantha Campbell?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through several life cycles until I found one that I think gets most of the information across, in the best way - but don't worry, there'll be more interludes in the future. For reference, my Castiel is Katie McGrath, my Lisa is Ben Whishaw and Azazel is probably Jane Lynch.


End file.
